Clichés
by xxA9m2Y9xx
Summary: Rose thinks Scorpius hates clichés. Scorpius thinks Rose is crazy. Another story in which Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy are best friends, and maybe more.


"Oh, now I get it!" said Scorpius as the credits rolled across the screen of the Muggle contraption. "It's called '_The Notebook'_ because he was reading to her out of the notebook that she wrote in about their story. That's awesome. I like movies."

Rose sighed, but could not conceal her amusement at her best friend's reaction to his first-ever movie.

"Of course you do, Scorp, everyone does. But I am a little surprised you liked this one so much."

"Well it was sad and stuff, but it was fun to watch. And no one can deny that those old people are adorable."

"That's not why it's surprising."

"Then why? Because the problem could have been so easily fixed with a Reminiscence Potion, Restorative Charm or Pensieve? That's not frustrating, it's just sad that Muggles don't have those same resources as us. I keep telling you, once I become a Healer I'm going to try to convince the Department of Muggle Interactions to install wizards at Muggle labs and hospitals to distribute potions—"

"Despite the fact that my brain is about to explode with the number of things that could go wrong with that, I shall refrain from once again having this discussion with you. Anyways, this movie is kind of targeted towards females."

"What, because it's romantic? That's unfair stereotyping, Rosie," Scorpius teased.

Rose rolled her eyes. "Yes, I know, but guys usually at least pretend to hate this kind of thing."

"And girls are usually sweet and lovely," Scorpius reasoned, "But you sure proved that one wrong." He was quickly greeted with a half-hearted slap to his leg.

"Scorpius!"

"What? How can you deny that when you're so clearly disappointed by my enjoyment of this movie, which you've so kindly picked out?"

"I'm not disappointed! It's rather sweet, really," said Rose, causing Scorpius to congratulate himself with an internal, _ten points to Scorpius!_ "…but I thought you hated clichés."

"Well, it wasn't all that clichéd of a movie. The fact that they're in love doesn't automatically mean it's cliché. And asking a girl out by threatening to kill yourself by falling fifty feet? That guy's a genius. And since when do I hate clichés?"

"Since you so constantly complain about the predictable flocks of plastic that worship you as if you were the god of sex and swishy hair," Rose scowled, but her eyes twinkled with amusement.

"That's a rather long title for them, Rosie. I think we're going to need to make that into an acronym." Ignoring his comment, Rose continued, "I mean, I just assumed that any guy who didn't enjoy such female attention must either be gay or consider themselves above such expected hormone-induced nonsense."

"It's not that they're cliché-

"Got something to tell me then, Scorp?"

"They're just annoying—

"It's Al, isn't it?"

"They're always trying to—

"I'll always be here for you, Scorpy."

"You're irritating."

"And so pretty, too."

"I guess you're just the whole package."

"Going to threaten to jump through the window unless I go out with you, then?" They were both leaning into each other as their banter progressed. With a dramatic huff, Scorpius drawled, "But it's _so_ cliché."

"Yet we've established the fact that you don't mind clichés," Rose raised an eyebrow, a fairly common gesture of hers that Scorpius secretly thought was adorable. Well, not that secretly, but Al always whined so much when Scorpius tried to talk about Rose that it wasn't even worth it.

"I really don't. In fact, I love them."

"Really?"

"Certainly." Scorpius flashed his charm smile, and his voice took on a dramatic tone. "Your hair resembles a spirited fire ready to ensnare me at any moment." Rose laughed heartily at his cheesy line, running her fingers through the aforementioned hair.

"I'm not so sure that's a compliment. My hair is rather tame, I'll have you know. Thank Merlin I inherited Weasley hair rather than my mother's." Paying her remark no heed, Scorpius continued, racking his brain for one of the countless failed attempts at profound romance he had found in one of his mum's novels.

"Your eyes are as deep and blue as the ocean."

"Really? I think they're more like that foul-smelling Wart-Sprouting Potion we had to brew in detention," Rose laughed at the memory before yawning. "Remember that? When we got caught in our drunken rendition of 'Is That a Wand in your Pocket?' outside the Room of Requirement after Al's seventeenth?"

Scorpius laughed along with her. "Still the best song ever."

"Mmmm," was the only sound that Rose could bring herself to make as she snuggled herself cozily into Scorpius, resting her head on his chest.

"You comfortable there?" He said, bringing his arm around her and resting his hand on her waist. Rose closed her eyes.

"Yep."

"Ah, I see you've reached the one-word-sentence stage. I'm excited."

"Why?"

"Because you're almost as funny when you're tired as when you're drunk." Scorpius didn't add that he much preferred her tired, both because when she was drunk he generally was as well, rendering him unable to remember any specifics of anything she did – and because an inebriated Rose was much more likely to engage in meaningless snogging with other guys.

"False."

"No, really. After this you get all defiant about whatever you can for a bit, and then you calm down and lose the filter that separates what thoughts should and shouldn't be spoken aloud."

"Scorpius! I do not follow any such ridiculous and predictable pattern. I'll have you know that I rather dislike patterns. All patterns. Plaid, stripes, polka dots. They disgust me." Scorpius rolled his eyes.

"Then why do you wear them?"

"To make a statement. Why are you always trying to undermine me?" Rose whined, though she was unmistakably burrowing herself further into his hold.

"I'm not," said Scorpius, trying to suppress his laughter at how adorable she was.

"There you go again."

"No, I agree with you." For a moment, this seemed to stump the sleepy yet defiant side of Rose Weasley.

"…No you don't," was all she came up with, unlike her usual quick and clever self.

"Now you're just trying to pick a fight," Scorpius smiled.

"Okay."

"You're done then?"

"Yes."

"And now the fun comes! One second, my arm is falling asleep," said Scorpius, shifting himself so that his head rested on the arm of the couch and his legs stretched out in front of him. Rose crawled forward lethargically and lay herself down on her side, wedged between the couch and Scorpius. He allowed her to rest her head on top of his chest, her arm resting there as well, near his shoulder, while her other arm was slid under him, in the gap between the couch and his elevated neck.

"Alright. Still comfortable?" He asked, returning his arm to its favorite place on her waist, pulling her against him protectively.

"Yeah…" Rose replied with a dreamy sigh, closing her eyes. "You're arm is like a pillow with a heating charm. I'm kind of surprised that it's so soft. Your chest too."

"Because I have such a tough and masculine personality?" Scorpius speculated jokingly.

"Nah, you've always been a softie," said Rose, still smiling. She really didn't seem to register any of what she was saying. "But your arm's all hard and muscular, but it's also weirdly cushiony. At least it looks muscular. Would it be weird if I felt your arms?"

"Maybe, but I don't mind." She reached the hand that was on his chest a little further and gave his bicep a squeeze. It took all of his willpower not to crack up right then and there. Her hand lingered, stroking up and down his arm, down to his forearms and then back up to his bicep. In a desperate effort to remain unperturbed, he glanced up at the ceiling and counted the tiny, almost invisible scratches across it that were probably caused by one of James' antics. He wondered what could have happened to cause them, waiting for her to either stop trailing her warm hand across his arm or say something amusing enough to distract him.

"Quidditch is stupid. You're not allowed to play anymore." Surprised by the comment, Scorpius replied, "What? Why?"

"Because you're too stupidly attractive already without your stupidly muscular arms from stupid Quidditch." _And one hundred points to Scorpius,_ he thought.

"You're not so bad yourself."

"Then why did Paul break up with me before term ended?" She said, her eyes still closed. She didn't sound the slightest bit upset, nor had she at the time of the breakup, which had taken place about a week prior.

"Because I threatened to beat him up if he didn't," Scorpius admitted.

"Why would you do that? I only dated him at all because Lily kept making fun of me for having snogged fewer off the list than her."

"What list?"

"Top Twenty Hottest Hogwarts Bachelors. Lils and I made it over the summer. If you ugly someone like Paul up he loses all his appeal."

"Harsh."

"It's not like he genuinely liked me anyways. Why didn't you tell me till now, Scorpy? We're besties and we're supposed to tell each other everything that ever happens ever ever."

"Because you would have gotten mad at me for defending you, because you are a strong independent woman who does not need a bodyguard. Even if he was being a prat and talking about how badly he wanted to 'fuck you dry' in front of everyone at Quidditch practice. Normally you'd freak out at me for getting involved. You're only this mellow because you're about to faint of exhaustion."

"Right. Bad Scorpy," tried Rose lamely. "It's not good at all that you did that and it's not really sweet or hot either. And I feel bad bad bad when you get protective and _not at all_ warm and smiley." _And Scorpius wins at life with another twenty points._

"I knew it. You love it."

"No. Bad."

"Shhh. Go to sleep. I'll make sure Al doesn't wake you when he gets back," said Scorpius, brushing his hand up and down her side in an effort to help her relax. She nestled closer to him, if it was possible.

"It was so nice of him to lend us his flat for Easter hols."

"He didn't. This is James' flat, Al still lives with your aunt and uncle."

"Whatever. Alby, Jamesy, it's all the same."

Silence ensued for just a few moments, until Rose opened her mouth once again and began singing softly.

"_Is that a wand in your pocket?/I can give an inspection/From what I can see/You've made an excellent selection."_

"Shhh."

"Scorpy, you need to sing your part."

"In the morning." _Definitely not while I'm sober._

"_No need for cedar, oak or pine/You're my favorite kind of wood!/I'm under your spell/You'd better give it to me good…"_

"Goodnight, Rosie."

"Shhh, I'm trying to sleep."

~•~

"Hey, Rose! Now that you're up I want to show you something." As Scorpius had emerged from the bathroom, where he had been practicing what he was about to do, he had noticed Rose sitting up with her eyes open, looking far too attractive for this time of day in last night's loose tank top and denim shorts.

"Where's Al?"

"He ended up sleeping over at Longbottom's. I'm sure he's happy she's not sharing a house with a professor anymore."

"You think that ever stopped him? I'm sure it's Uncle Nev who's most relieved about the situation."

"Thy speaketh the truth."

"You wanted to show me something?"

"Yep. I've decided to prove to you how much I like clichés. One sec, I shrunk the parchment too much and I can't remember which pocket…" Scorpius fumbled with his pockets for a bit before locating his script. _Wait, I shouldn't call it a script, that's lame. _"Oh, here it is. Are you comfortable? Hungry?" He didn't want any interruptions once he got started with this thing. Rose looked a little confused, but not irritated and clearly curious.

"I'm fine. I ate while you were in the bathroom."

"And you had your brushing and flossing mints afterwards like a good girl?" Scorpius asked teasingly. He did want to know, though, because if this worked out the way he wanted it to he didn't want to catch her unprepared.

"Are you going to show me what's on that blasted parchment now or am I going to slap you first?" was her only response, but Scorpius took it as a yes and sat down next to her on the couch hastily.

"You're a feisty one. Alright, but you can't speak at all until I'm done, okay? Okay. I kind of took the idea from the movie—it's sort of our story, except, like, if we were in love," Scorpius hoped to god that she bought that excuse until he was nearly finished. "I have this whole best-friends-harboring-feelings-for-each-other thing going on in this. Just for the story, so don't freak out or anything," that was such a lie. "I don't mean anything but the friendship stuff, I promise. Anyway…here goes. _ 'Scorpius Malfoy Proves to Rose Weasley that He Likes Clichés.' _We begin our story with a cliché in the form of a gorgeous little blond boy."

"Oh, is this about Louis?" Rose asked, her intonation implying that no other "gorgeous little blond boys" had ever come into existence apart from her part-veela cousin. _So much for my attempt at humor._ She was laughing, but Scorpius pettily thought that her joke was lessening the effect of his own.

"Not a word. He is talented, charming, skilled at Quidditch and intelligent. Yet, as he prepares to enter his first year at Hogwarts, he feels all of the clichéd things you're supposed to on your first day of school. He's excited, yet also nervous, apprehensive. He knows that his peers will know his name, most before he's learnt theirs, and they might judge him. He fears that the only ones who will talk to him are those with names that may be just as familiar as his own to the population of Hogwarts, like Goyle, Crabbe, Zabini. He has, however, accepted his fate of being the guy who is ostracized, taunted, ignored. The one who will just do his best in his studies and try not to care about the rest. His first hint that this will not be the case is when he puts on the Sorting Hat, which whispers into his ear words over which he will always ponder."

"Woah, nice touch. Literary genius right here."

"No interruptions. He is told that he could belong in Slytherin, like so many of his family before him. Yet he is also told that he has the ability to be a shrewd Ravenclaw, or even a courageous Gryffindor—but he fears the reaction that would result from his placement in any House other than that which was expected. He asks to be put in his father's House, and his wish is granted. He rushes to the table bedecked with silver and takes his seat among a sea of green robes."

"Good thing you wrote this down, or you'd be awkward as hell right now trying to remember all of this shit." At this, Scorpius couldn't help but laugh.

"It is not shit, Rose, it is art."

"When do I come in?"

"What did I say about interruptions? Not so long after his own Sorting, a name more popular than his own is seated upon the stool. Yet, surprisingly, Albus Severus Potter is placed in Slytherin, and the surprises won't seem to stop. Albus looks like he wants nothing more than to run over to the Slytherin table as fast as possible, just to get all of the prying eyes to turn away from him. He restrains himself, though, and calmly takes his seat. This is the next shock—Potter sits next to Malfoy. The feast starts and Potter starts to talk to the astonished (and still devilishly handsome) Malfoy, and they begin to get on quite well, and from that moment on they are best friends. They become Albus and Scorpius instead of Potter and Malfoy. It is too perfect, too clichéd, yet it is so; the sons of enemies have united. Scorpius learns that Albus has another friend, one from Gryffindor, who soon befriends Scorpius as well, and they become an inseparable trio."

"That's me!"

"Well, I was thinking more along the lines of Nearly Headless Nick, but if you want—

"If you want me to sit so patiently through this monologue you're going to have to be nicer to me."

"I can manage that. Alright, let's say it's you…ahem. They are regarded as Potter, Malfoy, and Weasley in amused whispered throughout the halls as occupants of Hogwarts Castle reflect on the irony of it all. And the cliché continues, as Albus, Scorpius and Rose thread their surnames together in reconciliation as their parents could never do. They are pleased to discover that their unlikely friendship is regarded above anything else as humorous, rather than shameful. Scorpius is euphoric. Not only have they overcome their surnames, but Albus and Rose have, despite their familial ties, become just as close with Scorpius as they are with each other. Throughout the years he is constantly amazed at his luck in finding such brilliant friends. He and Albus always have each other's backs, and they almost never stop laughing. He and Rose never stop laughing either, and just the thought of her makes him smile. For years he feels he can talk to her about anything and everything, and he pretty much does, and he is unperturbed by the fact that she is a girl. Whens she tells him things that she has withheld from even Albus, the warmth he feels inside is indescribably beautiful."

"I think the friendship clichés are what you're most skillful with."

"Nah, I like the love clichés better."

"Are those coming up?"

"SPOILERS! Obliviate!"

"Your wand is on the other side of the room."

"Thank Merlin too, or you'd hex my balls off. Now…However, as they grow older, though they grow ever closer, Scorpius can't help but feel as if things are changing. He puts in that extra effort with Rose to try and make her smile at him. He loses his focus in the library as she shifts in her seat, drawing his attention towards her, and once he has started looking he cannot look away. And he knows why. It's because he's had to date other girls—most of which he had no interest in—to get his mind off her, especially when she started seeing other guys, at which times Scorpius began to regret that she was so attractive. It's because her eyes are captivating, her lips so delicate, her fair complexion so smooth. It's because of the way that complexion beautifully darkens when she is embarrassed or flustered. It's because her hair looks so touchable and he has to grin unconcernedly as he playfully bounces a soft curl, so that she doesn't suspect that he'd rather let his hands become entangled in its fiery hue as he kisses her fiercely. It's because he had to pretend he didn't smell her in Potions class when they brewed Amortentia. It's because every time he thinks she might feel something for him, something deeper than friendship, he sleeps with a smile on his face and hopeful thoughts floating ceaselessly through his mind. It's because he's drowning in clichés, yet he can't find it in himself to care. He's perfectly fine with his heart skipping a beat, with his world stopping in place at the sight of her smile; her being the light of his life, his reason for breathing. The clichés pound into him, consuming him, and he lets them, which is why he is so surprised when she says that he hates clichés. Clichés are his life, they are him and her, his love for her. She says that he is the cliché popular guy with a cliché group of followers, and all he wants to do is scream that his favorite cliché can be them if only she will reciprocate. Because his favorite cliché is the best friends who fell in love. And right now, as this story is told, they are sitting together on a couch as Scorpius Malfoy reads these very words to Rose Weasley. And he was lying when he said that he had 'added' romance into their story. What I have said is true, every single word," And Scorpius set the parchment down on the couch, took a deep breath, and looked into her eyes. "I love you, Rosie, for years now, and I _need_ you to love me back."

And her face, which was all pleasantly colored cheeks and wide, twinkling eyes, was so near to his now. He needed her to say something.

"Scorpius…"

And her eyes bore into his own as her hand went to his cheek, the slightest of stubble upon it making it rough to her touch, before she reached her fingers to the back of his head, softly entwining them in his silky hair. He couldn't breathe, could only sit there as still as possible until he was certain of her intentions. He did not have to ponder much longer, for she soon was pulling him lightly towards herself and tilting her head, allowing her lips to brush against his slowly, sweetly. It awoke every nerve in his body, and too soon she was pulling away, just barely, as if allowing the both of them to process what had just happened. A mere second later his eyes closed as his lips descended onto hers once more, and his hands took a firm yet gentle hold on her waist. Her hand came to rest first on his chest, before sliding upwards to join the other around his neck. His hand began to glide up her back, stopping once it could become entangled in her hair as he had so often imagined. The kiss felt passionate, raw, perfect. He was losing himself in her scent, her touch, _her_, before she drew back, ending it all too soon.

"Are my fiery red locks living up to your expectations?" she asked playfully, the corners of her lips being tugged into a sweet smile.

"Exceeding them," he grinned back.

"You know," she began. "I think I could get into this clichés thing. It seems that you've simply swept me off my feet, my knight in shining armor."

Still grinning uncontrollably, Scorpius said, "So…we're together now?" And, smiling just as widely, Rose replied, "On one condition."

"What's that?" he asked.

"That parchment is getting framed, whether you like it or not. I'm keeping it for the rest of my life." With a kiss to her forehead, he whispered, "Done," and continued to eagerly kiss the only lips he would ever kiss again.

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this. It's my first fic, so I'm pretty nervous haha. Please review, it would be much appreciated :)**


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